I lurched forward and spat at Boris. ‘No way, no way, will you eat me. You’re dead, Boris—dead!’
‘Enough!’ the masked henchman said. He reined me in and held me in a tight arm lock.
As he hauled me towards the door, I struggled and yelled, ‘Get your hands off me! You retard!’
‘Ooh, touchy! Touchy!’ Boris said. ‘You think hands are so bad? I think it’s time you learn your lesson.’ Boris signaled for another guard to stand on the other side of me. ‘Get her out of my sight. The next time I see her I want her as a mince sauce on my Magellan maggots.’ He purred, ‘Mmmm! Magellan maggots.’
I could feel another sneeze coming on. I was too far away from Boris, but hey, the goony guards each side of me could do with a spray or two. ‘Get me out of this place, I’m allergic to cockroach—Aah-Chew!’ to the left, ‘Haa—chew!’ to the right.
Boris rested his head on his hand. ‘Oh, come on, now, hurry up with the girl. Kirk is waiting.’
Was that the first sign of the virus effect? I had to make them wait around to see. I hate not knowing. Now for some fast talking while the bugs did their business. I jerked, wriggled, squirmed, and kicked the guards who held me. ‘Oh, I am so sorry. I must be allergic to something. Perhaps it’s you Boris, yes, I think it must be you and that skin that flakes from that pustule in the middle of your shoulders. Oh sorry! Is that your face? My goodness, how rude I am!’ I wrestled with Chief Ex. ‘Get off me, you bozo! You know, you stink! When did you last have a shower? I bet you are butt ugly under that mask, or you wouldn’t be wearing it. I know, you’re a mutant.’ I struggled some more, but the guard’s grip only tightened.
‘Oh, wha’a mouf! Wha’a norf ‘n souf!’ Boris feigned a cockney accent. ‘I do believe this Miss—Hoochu Holly needs to be taught a lesson; I do. One that will shut her up for good. Please tell Kirk to teach Miss Piggy a lesson.’
‘If you think you’ll get a meal out of me, Boris, you’ll be disappointed.’ How dare he imply I’m fat!
‘Oh, but there I think you’re wrong. I might mix Boris World bat’s blood, and live salt slugs in a stew—oh, and the finishing touch? Yes, drop-bear droppings. Mmmm! A feast fit for a king.’
‘Cockroach King,’ I added.
The guard on the other side of the Chief Ex loosened his grip. He swayed and teetered.
I don’t think his seeming unsteadiness had anything to do with Boris’ latest recipe. Puzzled about the Chief Ex, though; he remained steady, his grip on my arm, firm.
I shouted, ‘Sure, after all those ideas of how to cook me, you want to waste me on your son? Was he the one I met? That kitchen hand on the Pilgrim Planet? What a twerp he was. I’m sure he’ll squander me. He won’t share. If he has me first, there’ll be nothing of me for you to eat. Sure you want to give me to Kirk?’
Boris leaned forward. ‘Wait!’ he held up his arm.
[to be continued…]
© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2019
Feature Photo: Hungry Carp, Japan © L.M. Kling 1984
Yearning for adventure? Space adventure?
Click on the links to my novels below and learn how this war on the alien cockroach Boris began and will continue…